His Butler, Tormented
by The Flamekeeper
Summary: Late at night, Ciel thinks long and hard. And the conclusion he comes to is...unwanted. Yaoi if you squint and turn your head.


**This story takes place the night after the 'Jack the Ripper' incident, presumably the night before Madame Red's funeral if her funeral was the very next day. I just found the scene where Sebastian screams and lunges to save his master, sacrificing his arm, to be incredible.**

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_**His Butler, Tormented**_

_**by**_

_**The Flamekeeper**_

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"_Master!"_

He is laying in bed, the white sheets a sharp contrast to the darkness in his mismatched eyes. It is late, an ungodly hour to be awake, but rather than heed his servant's wishes, he lies still and untired, confused and tormented by a distant cry from a past he can not change.

"_Master!"_

His dark eyes narrow; he realizes he's never heard his butler raise his voice until tonight. He never thought he'd see the day, honestly. His butler is cool, efficient, calm. He reminds the boy of hard glass and unforgiving thorns.

"_Master!"_

Still, that one utterance, that single, desperate cry, it sticks with him, despite his best effort to rest after such a taxing night.

The boy blinks at the ceiling. Or, at least, the darkness that must certainly be hiding the ceiling; the butler always takes away the candlesticks.

Why had he yelled in the first place? In that moment of raw emotion, his neck constricted, eyes blurred by painful, burning tears, the knife coming fast, his impulsive cry was the last thing he needed to hear. Because at that moment, even with the blade inches away, he still thought himself untouchable.

And afterwords, he could only stare in shock at the gruesome, crimson gash on his shoulder.

"_Master!"_

Hours into his deliberation, the boy knows why this is bothering him so.

His butler's voice was not only raised. It was also alarmed, shocked... and _scared._

"_Master!"_

Was his servant even able to feel emotions? That panicked scream, that one word, it contradicted everything his butler projected himself to be. The cry was everything Sebastian Michaelis was not. It was spontaneous, passionate, reckless, even.

But what does it mean? And why is it that just thinking about that cry, the boy shivers at the intensity in his voice?

Ever since the contract was made, it only made sense for the two to view each others as associates waiting for the fruition of the most twisted of business deals. That's all this way for anyways, right? His butler saw him as an important investment, no doubt, but an investment none the less. That's what the boy would tell himself during those rare moments he was feeling sentimental.

"_Master!"_

Perhaps...perhaps the butler is not as impartial as he appears to be.

God, why does this make the boy feel...almost content? Protected? He's not a child, hasn't been for two years now.

"_Master!"_

The boys decides he doesn't want to think about this anymore.

"_Master!"_

The voice in his head is getting louder, and he claps his hands over small ears, squeezing his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to deny the fear-

"_Master!"_

-the uncertainty-

"_Master!"_

-the _longing-_

"**Master."**

Deafening silence. His eyes peel open to stare at his lap. His arms slowly lower themselves, resting on the soft blanket even as he turns his head.

He looks up into the deep glow of twin dying coals, seeing nothing but darkness in his butler's eyes.

"Is...there anything I can help you with, Master-?"

"_Master!"_

"-I know it's been a...difficult night. But you need your rest."

There is a silence, and the boy stares. The butler stares back.

"Of course, you're right." The boys voice sounds strange, even to his own ears. Too cool, too detached for a young boy who's just lost his favorite aunt. The butler's brow raises a hairline. "Madame Red's loss was a blow I was not prepared for, but it is not what keeps me up tonight. I've been thinking, Sebastian. "

In the following pause, the boy realizes he's playing a new game now. And his butler doesn't know the rules.

"May I inquire as to what exactly you are thinking of?"

The child looks up, his large eyes unblinking and unforgiving.

"You."

The butler's eyes widen imperceptibly before his expression clears.

"Oh?" A pause while he straightens his vest. Had he known better, the boy might have confused it with fidgeting. "I was unaware that the mere thought of me kept my Young Master awake at night. I'm a very poor butler indeed." He gives a small smile, enjoying his tease.

It is funny, the child supposes. But he knows it's an act, and his butler knows he knows, and there is more silence while the two assess the other.

"What happened tonight?" The boys voice, though quiet, is strong and demands an answer. The butler only stares back. "Surely you remember. There was Madame Red's hand around my throat..." the boy trails off and his eyes fall, hooded, as if he is having trouble remembering quite accurately, as if it did not occur a mere few hours ago. His pale hand lifts and gently strokes his neck before squeezing slightly, as if this is a completely unconscious act. He can feel the weight of his butler's gaze, but continues to muse aloud to himself. "Yes, that's right. I remember...she was yelling. Then, she raised her stiletto and slammed me into the wall...and then..." The boy dropped his faraway look, staring straight at his butler with eyes like steel. "You screamed, Sebastian."

The butler was like a stone statue. His arms rested at his sides, and he hardly seemed to be breathing. The only thing about him that hinted at life were his eyes.

And God if they weren't blazing.

"...Master-"

"_Stop calling me that!"_

The boy reacts like the word is the poisonous sting of a viper, and he glares with undisguised pain at his servant, his nails cutting into the palms of his hands. He can easily see the disapproval in the older man's gaze as the scent of iron wafts to his nose, and he moves to take his master's hands.

"You've hurt yourself, Young Master." He materializes a handkerchief and dabs it on the wounds as his master sits there, so young and confused. When the butler looks up, he stills, eyes wider at the sight of moisture in the eyes of his lord.

"Mas-"

"Don't you do this," he says thickly, menacingly. "We both know how this ends." The butler looks away. He looks back when he feels his master's hand beneath his chin, their faces inches apart. "We both know how this ends," he repeats, each word coming out slow and even, a warning.

He can see that the butler is quite at a loss for words. Then, his mouth presses into a thin line. The boy absently realizes he's angry. Very angry. He stands abruptly and walks for the door. The boy is still talking.

"Revenge is the only thing keeping me around," The butler's hand is curling around the brass doorknob. "And I won't let you ruin everything with your pathetic..._caring._"

The door nearly slams closed.

Late at night, the child is still awake, kept away from blissful sleep by a distant, heart-wrenching voice.

"_Master!"_

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**Uhh. So yeah. There it is. XD Just trying to experiment here, I've never written for these two, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to write yaoi...**

**But yeah, I loved Kuroshitsuji and literally have about thirteen different stories written up, just dying to be published. But I wanted to write this first as a trial of sorts.**

**-The Flamekeeper**


End file.
